


Just Desserts

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, light slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Takes place during the second year of the partnership. When a jealous rival agent uses his father’s Section I influence to get a cushy assignment while Napoleon gets a less desirable one, Illya sees red. Napoleon, meanwhile, makes the best of it.





	Just Desserts

Illya had gotten used to being treated unfairly by certain individuals, even within U.N.C.L.E.; such people were not numerous, thankfully, but they did exist. Illya’s response was to have developed a thick skin and put up with the injustice—he was used to it, after all. But while Illya had no problem shrugging off unfair treatment directed at him, it absolutely incensed him to see his beloved Napoleon treated unfairly—that was a rare phenomenon, but even someone like Napoleon had his detractors within U.N.C.L.E., and they had become much more vocal after his and Illya’s promotions to the heads of Section II.

Two such detractors were the number 2 of Section I, Mr. Campbell, and his son Clyde of Section II. Clyde Campbell—who most often was known as C.C.—had gotten into a high position in Section II—no doubt through his father’s influence. He was not well-liked, however; his snobbish attitude had put him at odds with a lot of people, and Napoleon Solo’s arrival in Section II had been a breath of fresh air—particularly as it became clear that he was a far more competent agent, despite being younger.

Nevertheless, C.C. hadn’t felt threatened by Napoleon, even after Napoleon had defeated the elusive Emory Partridge; he was sure that his father’s influence would continue to boost his career to number 1 of Section II—so much so that he didn’t bother to hide his hostilities when Illya had been transferred to New York to help Napoleon try to bring in the Baron of THRUSH. He had caught Illya in the hallway one day in October—just weeks before the Baron’s defeat—bragging that it would be promotion time soon, and as the new C.E.A, C.C. promised he would waste no time in sending Illya back to Europe.

Illya had said nothing—cynically, he hadn’t thought that there was anything to be done with him. And after he and Napoleon had defeated the Baron and gotten promoted instead of C.C., he didn’t think that it would ever be an issue again.

How wrong he was. C.C.’s father in Section I had been waiting for Waverly to go on his annual vacation; with Campbell temporarily running the New York branch, he was going to let his son have the preferable assignments—and so, when the need arose for a protection detail at an embassy ball, he assigned C.C. to mingle with the partygoers, and assigned Napoleon and Illya to go undercover as the help.

And Illya, who certainly hadn’t wanted to mingle and had already resigned himself to being undercover as the help even before Waverly had left, was absolutely furious as he saw Napoleon, wearing a butler’s uniform as he was, delegated to cleaning silverware and serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres when he was far more suited to the party scene—and deserved that position on account of his rank.

“The most disgusting display of nepotism I have ever seen,” Illya muttered, as he and Napoleon continued to serve the guests. He glared daggers at both Campbell (who had come along to the party as a guest) and C.C., who were both chatting with the ambassador. “You deserve to be the one mingling out there.”

Napoleon was glancing at the scene and then shrugged, looking back at Illya.

“So do you,” he pointed out.

“But I would hate that,” Illya said. “Whereas you enjoy brushing shoulders at parties. And you have been delegated to this job when you have done no wrong!”

“As fond as I am of seeing you fiercely protective over me,” Napoleon began. “I still somehow seem to be the life of the party. Observe…”

He held out a silver tray of crackers and pâté, and held the tray up in a showy style, clearing his throat.

“More hors d’oeuvres, everyone?” he asked, with one of his winning smiles.

Illya watched in fascination as everyone speaking to Campbell and C.C.—including the ambassador, left the conversation to swarm around Napoleon. Napoleon said something to the ambassador that caused him to laugh heartily as he took one of the crackers, clapping Napoleon on the back. Illya also saw, with quite a bit of satisfaction, that Campbell and C.C. were glaring daggers at Napoleon in utter frustration, clearly upset to see him so happy and at ease at something that was supposed to be knocking him down a peg in their eyes.

Napoleon walked back to Illya with a wink.

“That was very satisfying to see,” Illya said. “But are you not the least bit upset at how you were assigned this job out of spite?”

“Not really,” Napoleon said. His expression darkened. “What does upset me were all the threats that C.C. made last year about transferring you back to Europe.”

“…How did you find out…?”

“Oh, he told me,” Napoleon said. “He was so sure he’d get that promotion, he was bragging about it to me—going over all the changes he was going to make, and saying that, as an American, I was setting a bad example by spending time with you after hours, and if I didn’t watch it, I’d end up finding a Russian in my bed.”

“…Which you did,” Illya said, blushing.

“And that reminds me, after we’ve brushed off the dust of this mission, how about you and I…?” Napoleon trailed off, and Illya followed his gaze, freezing as he saw someone he recognized as a THRUSHie slowly heading for the ambassador. Both Campbell and C.C. were completely oblivious, trying to get the ambassador back into the conversation.

“Illya…” he began.

“ _Da_ , I will cover you.”

Napoleon nodded and slipped towards the assailant, cutting him off just feet from the ambassador.

“Pâté?” he asked, innocently, and then slammed the silver tray into the THRUSHie’s face. As all heads turned to the source of the commotion, Illya quickly fired his Special, tranquilizing the THRUSHie, and people screamed as they realized what the THRUSHie had been after.

Illya had just made his way over to Napoleon in time for the both of them to hear the ambassador angrily chew out Campbells for being incompetent protective agents and how it was the help who had saved his life. Napoleon and Illya chose that moment to reveal their identities and save U.N.C.L.E. some face; they were promised a reward and commendations to Waverly, while the Campbells were threatened with the exact opposite.

With their identities revealed, Napoleon was allowed to enjoy the party after all, but opted to leave with Illya as soon as Mark arrived with replacements which were promised to be far more vigilant than the disgraced Campbells.

“You didn’t stay?” Illya asked, puzzled, as they walked down the moonlit streets of New York. “I am sure the ambassador would have loved your company.”

“Well, I was having such a good time with you, I figured why not keep a good thing going? I prefer your company most of all,” Napoleon replied. He smiled and, making sure that no one was observing, quickly kissed him. “See, this is why I didn’t care too much about the assignment. Sure, C.C. thought he was pulling one over on me, but at the end of the day, he’s still miserable and alone. But I’ve got you—and that’s all I could ever want.”

Illya couldn’t help but smile back as they continued to walk.

“It is all I could ever want, too, _Dorogoy_.”

With Napoleon’s arm around him, the Campbells were long forgotten and unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

For now, it was just the two of them.


End file.
